by Tim Morgan
“It’s okay.”
“He never listens to me.”
“He never listens to anyone.”
Dave looked at his watch. It was eleven o’clock. The prom got over at midnight, and it was starting to wind down. They’d have the limo until two o’clock. “I think I’ve had enough,” he said.
Back in the ballroom the tail end of My Immortal was playing. The crowded dance floor settled into group of slowly moving couples and the occasional group of singles. “One more slow dance?” Meghan asked, “Then we can go?”
Dave ran his hand over Meghan’s cheek. It was soft and warm and she looked like she was blinking back tears. There was something about her eyes—so bright and green and sparkly and loving and full of pain—that they held Dave by the heart. “Okay,” Dave said. The next slow dance was a Taylor Swift song—Teardrops on My Guitar. Meghan smiled.
“I love her,” she said.
“Me too,” Dave said.
Meghan rested her cheek on Dave’s shoulder. He held her tighter.
After the prom they changed out of their formal clothes and into jeans and T-shirts. They drove through Boston for a while, then found their way up to Salem. They got out and took a walk on the walkway near Pickering Wharf to the mini lighthouse at the end. There was a slightly cool breeze blowing in off the water and there was nobody around. The moon was full and there were some lights from the houses and the boats in the harbor.
“I should have done more,” Dave said.
“You did all you could,” Meghan said.
“I should have stopped him.”
“You can’t save the world.”
“I don’t care about the world. I care about my friends.”
Meghan put her hand on Dave’s cheek. “And that’s what makes you a good man.”
Dave blinked back tears. Meghan held him. They looked at one another; breathed one another’s breath; felt their hearts beating together. Together they closed their eyes and kissed.
They looked at one another, dumbfounded. “The prom’s kind of like New Year’s Eve, right?” Dave asked.
“Yeah,” Meghan said. “You need to kiss someone at midnight.”
“But it’s only 11:55.”
“I guess we were early.”
“Yeah.” Dave paused. “Can we do that again at midnight?”
“Why wait?” Meghan asked.
If only I could make this moment go on forever, Dave thought.
FIFTEEN
We’re sleeping in a control tower at an airport—Milan, Illinois. We found a military cargo plane on the airport with a few bodies in it and a lot of blood. The first couple times I saw bodies it bothered me. The sight of the bodies and the blood doesn’t bother me so much anymore. It’s the smell. Every time I smell it I want to throw up, and it’s even worse when the zombies are around.
I’m getting so sick of foraging for food. Everywhere we go we have to look for food, we have to look for water, we have to look for a safe place to sleep. I’m constantly hungry and I barely sleep. Someone snores, or farts, or rolls over, and I wake up.
I hope you guys are OK. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from anyone back home. How are things going? Write back. Please.
Meghan was the first one to wake up. Dave and Chris were snoring on the floor as she tiptoed to the bathroom. When she was done she washed her hands with hot water—it felt so good to not worry about flushing the toilet or running the water. She washed her face and was amazed at the dirt that swirled down the drain. She scrubbed a couple more times and looked up in the mirror. She actually recognized the face looking back at her. She was thinner, harder, but it was still her.
After she dried her face she made her way up to the tower. They figured the glass was so heavily tinted and set at such a steep angle there was no way the zombies would see them. The rising sun turned the sky a rosy color. Great, Meghan thought, bad weather ahead.
She looked out over the airfield. There were planes still parked on the tarmac, mostly lined up in neat rows. Some spots were empty where planes could park; Meghan wondered whether those were empty to begin with or if some people piled in everything they had and flew off into the sunset, maybe somewhere better. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter, she thought.
Something moved in the woods to the south. Whatever it was, she couldn’t quite make it out in the morning light. Meghan grabbed the binoculars for a closer look. She gasped as a deer came bounding out of the woods. It bounded a few times out onto the grass and stopped to catch its breath. Meghan watched the deer turn its nose into the wind, staring at the woods. She scanned the trees with her binoculars and caught more flashes of movement.
A zombie charged out of the woods. Then two more. And five more. Meghan lost count—they came from the woods moving faster than Meghan had seen them move before. The deer bounded past the first zombie, then between the second and third. It was almost to the tree line when a dozen more zombies broke out of the woods. They swarmed on the deer, tearing at its flesh with broken teeth and jagged nails. Meghan put the binoculars down when a spray of blood shot into the air. “Oh God!”
She staggered down the stairs, mumbling. Chris was starting to wake when he heard Meghan’s sobbing. He shook Dave awake and jumped to his feet. “Meghan—what’s the matter?”
Meghan couldn’t speak—she pointed. Chris charged up to the upper level, two steps at a time. He saw the swarm, grabbed the binoculars. “What do they have?” Dave was by his side a moment later.
“A deer,” Meghan managed to get out.
“How did they . . . ” Dave asked.
“Holy shit, look at them all,” Chris said. He handed Dave the binoculars.
Dave remembered seeing the awful things animals do to one another on Animal Planet. He used to think the crimson water left behind after a shark attack was the most sickening thing he’d ever seen. At least that was a shark. That’s what it’s supposed to do. This was worse. Much worse. These used to be people. There was no hesitation crawling through the blood stained grass, ripping flesh from bone with human teeth. There was no remorse in the faces. No thought. All of them—old zombies, young zombies—all of them looked the same. Dead eyes. Expressionless faces. Just like a great white shark, Dave thought.
He lowered the binoculars. Chris was scanning the rest of the grounds. “We better get out of here.”
“Now?” Dave protested.
“Before the rest of them find their way over,” Chris said. “Grab the binoculars and let’s go. That deer isn’t going to keep them occupied long.”
Dave put a hand on Meghan’s shoulder as she was rolling up her sleeping bag. She looked pale as he had run past her up the stairs, but her color had returned. “You okay?” he asked.
Meghan nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Dave said. “I’m calling a vote.”
“You’re what?” Meghan demanded.
“We don’t have time for this,” Chris said.
“It’s stupid for us to go out there,” Dave said. “We’re safe up here. We can wait them out.”
“What if they don’t leave?” Chris asked. “Then what are we going to do?”
Dave thought about that—sure, their citadel could become a prison. That was preferable to trying to run through another horde of zombies. He tossed his reflector into his helmet.
“Dammit, Dave,” Chris shouted as he threw his reflector in. Meghan followed suit.
Dave shook his helmet and pulled out Meghan’s reflector.
Chris and Dave turned their eyes to Meghan. “Your call, Meghan,” Dave said. She’ll listen to me, she’s smart. We can wait here . . .
“Dave . . . ” Meghan said, “we can’t stay here. I don’t want to leave either, but we need to get out of here while we can.”
“Let’s not waste any more time,” Chris said, pinning his reflector to the side of his helmet. “We need to roll now!”
They packed quickly and ran down the stairs. Deep in the heart of a concrete and
steel structure, the sound wouldn’t be heard outside. At the bottom of the landing Chris checked through the window on the door. Their bikes were clear.
Chris held his breath as he pushed the door open. The three secured their gear. He mounted his bike as Meghan plugged her laptop power cord in and secured the solar panel to the side of her pannier. Dave was tightening his helmet with shaking hands.
“All right,” Chris said, “let’s do this. Dave, you first. Then Meghan. I’ll go last.”
Dave thought about calling the vote. He felt dumb about it now, having to be the first one out the door through this horde. Maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut he wouldn’t be first, maybe Chris would be going first . . .
“When you go,” Chris said, “head that way.” Chris pointed between some hangars and a building. “When you get past those buildings, take a hard right. Get to the road as fast as you can and head toward the highway. Slow down at the on ramp if you can and we’ll all meet up.”
“Okay,” Dave said. He rested his foot on his pedal and took a deep breath, tried commanding the quiver in his stomach to stop. The door opened and he was out of the building.
The morning air was heavy and humid and the sky was still burning orange. The tower was right behind a large building. Dave heard the moaning as he rode across the grass. Dew and mud splattered up at him as he rode. The ground was a little soft and he couldn’t quite make the speed he wanted to. He looked around, scanning the field around him. The zombies were out of sight, but he could hear them. There was an access road a few yards away. I get to the pavement and I can make better speed. Dave pointed his bike toward it and pedaled. Fear burned in his lungs and his gut and he thought he could hear someone behind him.
He hit the pavement and his speed picked up. When he rounded the corner he saw the first zombie, just yards away. It let out a moan and gave chase. Dave heard the zombie’s footsteps close behind. He kept pedaling, shifted his gear to make pedaling easier. Every time he pumped the pedals he gained a little ground.
Moments later he came to an intersection and took a hard left, tight to the corner. The road was straight, level and clear. He cast a glance over his shoulder. Meghan was just behind him, Chris slightly behind her. The road behind them was clear for the moment.
Dave turned his eyes forward. He could take a right, stay on paved road, and cut back a little bit toward the zombies where he knew there would be a gate. Or he could ride straight ahead, across the grass toward the fence. Was the fence down or not? he didn’t have time to think. He turned right at the intersection.
Meghan was a few yards behind Dave, with Chris just behind her. She followed Dave on his turn; she felt her rear tire slip a bit on the corner and thought she’d lose it. Wiping out at this speed with zombies this close would be a death sentence.
She looked to her right, back to where the horde was.
They were coming for them.
A wall of zombies. Running at full speed. She looked ahead. More were coming out of the woods! “Dave!” she shouted.
“Follow me!” Dave shouted. He cut left, weaving between the trees. Meghan followed. Branches whipped at her face and leaves blocked her vision, but she managed to keep Dave in sight. They were riding over the field now. The ride was bumpy as hell and Meghan thought she would spill. Dave doubled back, zipping just beyond the tree line. Before she knew what was going on, they hit the road.
Chris was bringing up the rear. He wasn’t used to being this far behind, but there was a burning in his muscles and joints that wasn’t from the ride. At first he thought he was coming down with a flu or something. Then it dawned on him—this may be the HIV. Great, he thought, we need to ride through the zombies and I’m sick. I let Dave and Meghan go first, and they’ll probably make it. They’ll be on the highway before they notice I fell behind.
He was amazed when he got to the road. Chris shifted gears and he was moving faster with less effort. He looked back. The horde was slowing down, giving up chase. He couldn’t believe they made it!
“We did it!” Dave said. He turned and flashed a smile to Meghan and Chris. “We did it!”
“Dave!” Chris shouted, pointing. Dave turned his head forward. More zombies were coming out of the woods. They were scattered, but there were a lot of them running down the road toward them. The combined speed of their bikes and the running undead left Dave little time to react.
Dave cut left, then right, darting under grabbing hands. His path brought him right through their stench; it made him gag but it didn’t register. He had to keep moving, avoid the hands, just keep moving. Open road ahead. Just get through this.
Dave was out of the crowd and speeding down open road before he knew what was going on. Meghan and Chris weren’t far behind as they turned onto the ramp to Route 150. Dave looked back—there were probably a thousand zombies chasing them when they lost sight of the horde.
Chris was straining as they got onto the highway. He had cramps all over—not the ache from a good workout like he was used to, but a stiffness that felt kind of like the flu. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to focus on riding. He took a sip of water. It was warm and tasted of plastic and didn’t do anything to help his nausea.
Meghan slowed slightly and matched Chris’ speed. “You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Little achy, that’s all.”
“You want to stop?”
“No, we need to ride.”
Meghan nodded. “Dave,” she called.
Dave turned around.
“Slow down a bit. Chris isn’t feeling good.”
Dave slowed. The three of them rode together at a comfortable pace.
“There were a lot of those things back there,” Dave said.
“That’s why we need to keep moving,” Chris said. He was pausing between words and straining. Meghan and Dave looked at each other.
“You don’t look good,” Meghan said.
“I’m fine,” Chris insisted. His voice was weak.
“We need to stop. Dave, ride up ahead and see if you can find a house or something,” Meghan said.
“No,” Chris said, “We have to ride. We haven’t gone far enough yet. Later. We can stop later.”
Dave slowed a bit, staying slightly ahead of the group but well within sight.
Meghan was torn. She wanted to keep riding as much as Chris did, but even though he wouldn’t admit he had limits, Meghan knew he did. Pushing themselves too hard would land them in a bad spot. Maybe not now, but soon.
SIXTEEN
Beijing, China (Reuters). Chinese officials summoned Indian and Pakistani ambassadors in an effort to defuse tensions in the region after rioting broke out in Lahore, Pakistan. Tensions between the two nuclear armed powers are at historic levels since the outbreak of the mysterious Mumbai virus. Both sides have threatened to sever diplomatic relations and are actively positioning troops along their borders in the contested Kashmir region.
The throbbing in Chris’ temples was unbearable. Just breathing was tough. He was on his back and the ceiling didn’t look familiar. Where am I? He turned his head slightly to the side. He could see the back of Sebrina’s head, her hair tousled, no shirt on. He tried to sit up and a wave of nausea got the better of him. He stopped, panted a couple minutes. Tried again.
On the second attempt he made it up. The hotel room was trashed; there were schnapps bottles and cigarette butts everywhere. Chris stood up slowly. Where are my clothes? He glanced over at Sebrina’s naked body. Her ass didn’t look that big last night. Snoring came from the other bed. Mike was passed out there, with some girl Chris thought he should know but didn’t recognize. Another guy was passed out on the chair.
Chris staggered into the bathroom, trying to get his bearings. Patchy memories came back with each step. The elevator ride up, Sebrina’s lips on his. Her arms locked around him. The way she purred like a cat as she ran her tongue over his neck. His conscience wanted him to leave but his gut told him to stay, to sa
vor it, to take advantage of this opportunity. Sebrina was kind of loose, but damn, she was hot last night.
He sat on the side of the bathtub and put his head between his knees to fight the nausea. The pounding in his head was relentless. He remembered his lips on her neck, his tongue exploring her ears—neck—tits—bellybutton. Anything else? What else did I do last night? What happened to Traci? Did she go home? I think she came in here. Said something about me and Sebrina. My head hurts so much. I can barely breathe, let alone remember.
It took all the strength he could muster to grasp the water glass with a steady hand. He turned the faucet to a trickle and poured a glass of water. Alcohol dehydrates you. I’m dehydrated, that’s why my head hurts so much. I need water. Water right now. After I get dressed I’ll pick up a Gatorade at the vending machine. Chris downed the water in one shot, tried to fight a cough back. He coughed once and thought his eyes were bugging out; he coughed a second time and thought his head would explode. He steadied himself with a hand on the sink, took a few deep breaths. Refilled. Downed it.
After drinking his fill, Chris shuffled into the hotel room. Quietly as he could he found his clothes and got dressed. I’m going to look stupid wearing a wrinkled tux, but I really don’t care. I need to get out of here. Oh, God, this hurts. What the hell happened last night?
His shoes were on the floor right in front of Sebrina. He knelt slowly to get them, the mouse stealing the cheese from in front of the sleeping cat. She opened her eyes, saw Chris, and smiled. Chris froze.
“Call me,” she purred.
Chris nodded.
Sebrina closed her eyes and rolled onto her back. Her chest is what got me into this mess, he thought, how stupid am I? Why do I keep doing this? Chris took his shoes and tiptoed out of the room without bothering to put them on.
Down the hall there was an alcove with a couple vending machines and an ice machine that was grinding away. The sound of the machine and the chunky thud of falling ice hammered his aching head like a jackhammer. Oh, God, I will do anything, make this stop! Chris fished a couple dollar bills out of his wallet and stuffed them into the vending machine. First he bought a Gatorade. As the drink dropped into the dispenser, he realized he was starving. He bought a Snicker’s bar. He opened the Gatorade and chugged a third of it without stopping. Then he tore the candy bar open and took a huge bite.